Lockdown
by Baroness3
Summary: Blaine and Kurt are enjoying a date at Cedar Point when a little motion sickness rocks their worlds forever. Their journey from here will be long, hard, and maybe even separate...
1. Chapter 1

Kurt stared down in horror. He had just ruined a perfectly good pair of Marc Jacobs loafers, and seriously maimed Blaine's navy blue converse sneakers. He reached a shaking hand into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped the vomit from his mouth and chin.

"I told you we shouldn't have gone on Mantis!" He moaned to Blaine, who was trying to shake the remnants of Kurt's lunch off of his shoes.

"And I told you not to eat that churro till _after_ we rode this one." Blaine retorted halfheartedly. In truth he felt pretty bad for Kurt, who wasn't overly fond of roller coasters in the first place, and had now just done two of the things he hated the most-thrown up in public, and ruined a pair of shoes. "Look, let's get cleaned up, okay? We're standing in the middle of Cedar Point, with barf on our shoes. People are staring."

Kurt nodded, arms crossed against his stomach, still a little doubled over. "By all means then. Thank god I brought wet-wipes."

With that, the two boys hurried away to the nearest restrooms. Fortunately for Blaine, Kurt, and the Cedar Point custodial staff, it wasn't a long walk. When Blaine and Kurt walked in, a vile stench hit them. It was worse than being tossed into the fullest dumpster on a hot August day. Blaine winced, and Kurt cringed, before running to the trashcan and gagging again.

"Holy crap! It reeks in here." Blaine commented before turning his attention to Kurt, whose head was still over the trashcan. "Are you okay, babe?"

He was answered by some unearthly noises from his boyfriend, who was obviously throwing up again. Finally, Kurt emerged. "Are you talking to me, or the trashcan?" he muttered as he washed his face with the restroom's paper towels, crappy, weird-smelling water, and his travel-sized Cleansing Facial Wash from L'Occitane.

Blaine chuckled. "What do you think?" He peeled his shoes off quickly, trying to touch them as little as possible. "Pass the wetwipes?"

Kurt tossed the wet wipes across the room to Blaine, who caught them easily, surprised by Kurt's aim. "Woah, Kurt! Where'd you learn to throw like that? Your stint on the football team?"

Kurt shook his head. "No. Baseball. When I was ten my dad decided that I needed to spend my summer doing something other than playing Debutant Ball with my action figures and stealing issues of Vogue from the library. So, since my mom wasn't around to convince him otherwise, I was signed up for Little League. It was absolutely dreadful-lots of dust and spitting-but I learned to throw pretty fast. When you sound like a girl, you don't want to throw like one."

Blaine had to laugh as he pictured a young Kurt in a baseball uniform, pitching to some tough looking redneck kid. "Well, it worked."

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. I think it was my dad's last attempt to convince himself that I was straight. He gave up on that the day he saw me doing my hair in the dugout." Although he seemed a little rueful, Kurt let out a chuckle. "That was my first and last season of baseball. He let me go to theatre camp the next summer, though."

The two boys continued to chat as they cleaned off their shoes, Kurt bemoaning the state of his loafers, and Blaine asking why Kurt had brought shoe polish in the first place. ("It's an _amusement park_, Blaine! Not exactly synonymous with cleanliness. Did you look at those footpaths? Atrocious!") Their conversation seemed to take Kurt's mind off his stomach, although he did seem a bit dizzy.

"I know there's a toothbrush in here somewhere!" Kurt muttered as he rooted through his satchel, holding a travel-tube of whitening toothpaste between his teeth. "I could've sworn…"

This sent Blaine into another fit of bemused laughter. "Oh my god, Kurt Who brings dental hygiene products to Cedar Point?"

Kurt turned to Blaine, held up his bedazzled toothbrush, and winked. "The guy who wants to kiss his boyfriend during the fireworks show."

Blaine grinned at the mischievous look glinting in Kurt's blue eyes. "Do we have to wait that long?"

They gravitated towards each other, painfully unaware of the opening door. "Faggots!" A frighteningly gleeful voice interrupted their embrace. "Hey, Nick! Tom! Get in here and see this! These fags are freaking making out in here!"

Kurt and Blaine snapped apart from their innocent embrace, and became aware of the three beefy guys standing in the door way. They were obviously frat boys, probably from OSU. They looked like the type that majored in booze, football, sex, and fights. They also looked a little demented.

"Damn." Blaine whispered. Kurt couldn't have agreed more.

The three men advanced upon Blaine and Kurt. Kurt backed away, stiffening. Blaine steeped forward slightly. In his public high school career, he had learned a couple things about fights.

The beefiest guy threw the first punch, straight into Blaine's gut. Blaine grunted, but returned a blow to the man's broad left shoulder. This made him really mad. "Get 'em!" He declared to his cronies. He stepped back to rub his shoulder, letting his pals attack Blaine. Nobody noticed Kurt frozen in the corner, face screwed into the expression that meant tears were on their way.

Blaine got in a few good knocks before he was on the ground. His nose was bleeding, and he felt dizzy. He lay on the floor, trying to catch his breath, as the group's leader made his way over, and plopped his lardy self down on Blaine, bouncing up and down, chanting "Fag-got, fag-got, fag-got" over and over. Fury boiled in Kurt's chest he really hated that word.

"STOP!" The word leapt from Kurt's throat as he sent himself sailing at the boy on top of Blaine. He gave the homophobe a swift kick in the groin, using the foot that had landed McKinley several of its rare football wins. This time, he didn't even need 'Single Ladies'. Sputtering, he hollered for help, while one of the sidekicks-Tom?- sat at El Beefo's side. The other man was all over Kurt. With a high-pitchedc yell worthy of any soprano, Kurt dodged the fists long enough to blow the barely conscious Blaine a kiss before screwing open his tube of toothpaste, and squirting it in the offender's squinty eyes. "Never, ever, mess with my boyfriend." He said, leaning down to assist Blaine. "It's-it's okay. I've got you. I'm here."

Park security burst in. "Hands up!" They seemed to guess the situation, although the trio tried to explain otherwise.

"Those two little fags attacked us, man! We were defending ourselves." they yelled as handcuffs were clipped on. "You weren't here! This is bullshit!"

The cops weren't interested in the protests. One radioed an ambulance, while the two others started hauling the Frat Boys away. "We weren't there, but some dude in the doorway caught it all. He got video after calling the police. It'll make good evidence in your trial." By now the third cop was examining Blaine.

"Is he okay?" Kurt was trying valiantly not to cry. He had done well, he knew that. Blaine…Blaine would pull through. He had to.

The cop looked up at Kurt, assessing his face. "He's not great. He's got a couple broken ribs, and most likely a concussion. But your friend will be fine. You were brave, kid."

"Boyfriend." Kurt corrected, surprising himself. Blaine wasn't conscious enough to hear him, Kurt was sure of that, but he needed to hear himself say it.

The cop raised his eyebrows slightly, but nodded. "Medics are on their way. You can ride in the ambulance with him. We need to call his family-you got a phone number?"

Kurt rattled off Blaine's home phone number. He gathered up Blaine's shoes, and his own wet wipes and soap. The toothbrush had somehow ended up in a filthy urinal, so he ignored it. The medics lifted Blaine onto a stretcher, talking to one another in urgent, medical voices. One pretty female walked up to Kurt and nodded to the boy on the stretcher. "They told me what you did for your boyfriend. That's so cool…I know what it's like…if someone tried to get my girlfriend, I'd do the same thing. You were awesome."

Kurt blushed at the praise, and sighed in relief. Blaine was in good hands. "Thanks. That means a lot."

The woman continued "Go ahead and hop in. You can ride beside him. The doctors will want to look at you, too."

Kurt didn't need to be told twice. He limped into the ambulance, grabbed the seat closest to Blaine, and took his boyfriend's blood-coated hand. He pushed Blaine's hair off of his sweaty forehead, humming some Katy Perry just for Blaine, who still had a bizarre attachment to that girl. Suddenly, Blaine's eyes fluttered open.

"Kurt?"

Kurt was kneeling beside Blaine in an instant, cradling his boyfriend's head. "Blaine! I'm right here, don't worry. Are you okay? Where do you hurt?"

"We never got to go on Top Thrill Dragster…" with that, Blaine fainted again. Kurt hollered to alert the medics. The popped on an oxygen mask, and started running tests on Blaine.

"He's okay" the cool lesbian chick assured Kurt. "Maybe a little more brain trauma than we expected, but-"

"Brain trauma?"

She nodded nervously. "But nothing life threatening…I'm sure he'll be fine."

Kurt looked away. He didn't believe her.


	2. Chapter 2

It was ten 'o clock at night. Kurt shut his eyes and imagined where they should be, sitting on a bench in Cedar Point, watching fireworks, and maybe feeding each other cotton candy. Blaine would be whisper-singing "Firework" in Kurt's ear, and Kurt would pretend to be annoyed, but he'd sing along during the chorus. Then, the two of them would snuggle together on the bench, and lean in, and the world would disappear as they kissed…

Kurt forced himself out of his dream world, and back into reality, where Blaine lay in a hospital bed with three broken ribs, a sprained wrist, a concussion, and some kind of brain trauma. The doctors weren't sure how the trauma would manifest itself in Blaine, if it would at all initially. Kurt was trying not to think about that as he sat by Blaine's bedside, his badly sprained right ankle resting on a foot stool provided by a kind nurse.

His dad and Carole had rushed to the hospital to check on Kurt as soon as he'd called. They were relieved to see their son in reasonable condition, despite his ankle and badly bruised face. They'd waited with him while doctors worked on Blaine. Kurt's dad had told his son how proud he was. Carole sat with Kurt for over an hour in the waiting room, after he'd been discharged, holding an icepack to his various scrapes and bruises. Kurt's phone had been flooded with texts from concerned friends. (He couldn't bring himself to answer any of them.)

Finally, Kurt's parents had gone home. Kurt could now call the only person he could bear to talk to. He fished out his phone, and dialed the number. The phone was answered after only one ring.

"Kurt? Oh, my poor baby! How are you? How's Blaine?"

Kurt breathed a sigh as he heard Mercedes' voice. "I'm fine, I think. Blaine is…well, stable. They don't know what he'll be like when he wakes up…" Kurt's voice broke. Throughout this entire ordeal he'd bravely abstained from crying, but now, hearing Mercedes' voice, he was just about ready break down.

Mercedes seemed to sense this, because her voice became even calmer and gentler. "Oh, sweetie…He'll be okay. I know it."

Kurt didn't say anything for a moment, but Mercedes just stayed on the line, humming a little, not saying a word.

"He was taking me to cheer me up." Kurt said flatly, in a detached voice that didn't belong to him. "After the whole Quinn thing. And now…he's here. First Quinn in the psych ward, now Blaine in the trauma unit. And" Kurt choked back a sob "What if he goes away too?"

"Oh, Kurt…I…you've had a hard summer haven't you?"

Kurt nodded into the phone.

"You want me to come? Or do you want to be alone with him?" Mercedes was treading carefully-Kurt could be touchy when he was worried, and little things would undoubtedly set him off tonight.

"Can you come tomorrow? I kind of want to, you know, be with him."

"Of course! Look, I'll bring breakfast tomorrow, okay? Hang in there, Kurt! Love ya!"

"Love you too." Kurt smiled weakly. "G'bye."

Just then, Blaine's eyes fluttered open. Kurt leapt from his seat, ignoring the shot of pain emitting from his ankle. "Blaine? Blaine, I'm here. How are you? You know me, right? It's me, Kurt!"

Blaine's eyes flashed with recognition, then terror. "Get out! Don't hurt me! Get! Out!" Blaine was wailing now, as he shook. He couldn't seem to catch his breath as he thrashed about, trying to free himself from the various IV tubes and monitors. "Stop! Don't touch me! Go! _GO!_"

"Blaine." Kurt took a step back. 'It's me. Kurt Hummel. Your boyfriend, remember?" Blaine was sobbing hysterically now, like a small child, and he was sweating profusely.

"_GO!" _

This time, Kurt went, calling frantically for a doctor. He burst into the hall, completely unaware of his now-throbbing ankle. Two nurses, a doctor, and some other official looking person hustled past Kurt and into Blaine's room. The wailing continued as Kurt stood in shock. He could here calm voices talking to Blaine, and then the familiar noise of an injection-probably a tranquilizer-before Blaine was subdued. Kurt was kind of wishing for a tranquilizer himself, as he curled up in one of those waiting room chairs he knew so well.

Soon, a nurse came out and sat next to Kurt. "You okay?"

Kurt turned to face her "A little freaked. But, Blaine. What happened?"

The nurse sighed, shifting in her seat. "Honestly we're not sure. We think that he's got some form of Situationally Disposed Panic Disorder. It might be a tough ride-"

"Wait. What is that in the first place? And why is he scared of me? I've never done _anything!_"

"I know. I'm guessing it's because you were there during the attack. See, SDPD is essentially when certain aspects of life, or situations trigger panic attacks. Since you were at the attack, we think he's tied you in to the terror he experienced. And he seems to be scared of stockier guys, too. Our neurologist is…big boned, and he had to leave because Blaine was so scared of him."

"That makes sense, I guess. But…does this mean I'll never be able to go near Blaine again? Because, I can't do that. I can't." Kurt's heart nearly stopped beating. He couldn't imagine life without Blaine. Especially not when it could have been avoided. If only he hadn't flirted with Blaine in that damn bathroom. He and Blaine could be driving home from Cedar Point right now! Hot tears of frustration stung at his eyes.

"I know it's difficult. But if you care about him, really care, you'll step back for a couple days. You can see him in three days, okay? Wednesday." The nurse squeezed Kurt's shoulder as she departed, hurrying back to Blaine's room. Kurt curled up tighter in his chair, and picked up his phone once again.

Fortunately, Mercedes answered her phone right away again. Kurt didn't even wait for her to say hello. "Mercedes. Can you come pick me up? Right away?"

As Mercedes helped Kurt into her car a mere half hour later, he couldn't even look at her. "I'm done." He whispered. "Done with all this people crap. It hurts too bad."

"What was that doll?"

"Nothing." _Everything._


	3. Chapter 3

"_Why is everyone being so nice to me?"_ Kurt wondered. It was Tuesday, and for the past two days, he'd been a wreck. On Sunday he'd slept till one in the afternoon, and spent the rest of the day locked in his room, on the phone with Mercedes, listening to every single song he'd ever heard Blaine sing. (Not that he'd made a playlist in advance or anything…) When he ventured downstairs around eight thirty, he'd refused to speak of the previous days events, snapping at his dad, Carole, and Finn for no particular reason. By ten o'clock, he dissolved into tears after he dropped a glass of vitamin water. No one mentioned his outburst, Finn cleaned up the vitamin water, and Carole patted her stepson's back kindly as he retreated to his room. Burt set a fresh glass of vitamin water outside Kurt's door, knocking and then leaving, so Kurt could have some space.

Monday had been just as miserable. This time he'd attempted to go to work, where he accidentally knocked over two mannequins, matched plaid with dots (Not in a good way), and had broken down in tears again when he spotted a pair of navy blue Converse. (Sure they were bedazzled, but they still made him thing of Blaine. Then he remembered how he'd been bedazzling Pavarotti's grave when he and Blaine first kissed. That made him cry on multiple levels.) Kurt's boss found him crying into a designer scarf, and after murmuring a few kind words, sent him home for the day. After Kurt got home, it was back to his room and the Blaine Playlist.

The glee girls had sent him flowers-calla lilies, his favorite, and a note saying that an identical bouquet was at Blaine's bedside. The glee guys had sent him an Edible Arrangement, extra star fruit, no honeydew, and promised that a similar arrangement was in Blaine's room. As sweet as his friends were, Kurt wasn't cheered up at all, although nibbling on fruit was a good diversion, and crying beside calla lilies looked much more glamorous than his usual crying-into-the-hands routine.

Finally, that night, Kurt had forced himself to "man-up", as he'd phrased it in his impromptu pep talk in front of the mirror. "Manning Up" involved a lot of acting, as far as Kurt could tell. This morning, he'd tried to hobble through his best exercise routine, which was incredibly painful, and very distracting. After that, he challenged a very surprised Finn to a Black Ops tournament. This was, in Kurt's opinion, incredibly annoying, as it involved a lot of guns, and Finn kept letting him win.

Just as Finn was explaining the "Upper-Left Swing Kick" formula to Kurt, his ringing phone rescued him. Tina was calling, and talking to her had to be better than more video games.

"Finn, I've got to take this." Kurt murmured hurriedly. "Tina, hi!"

"Kurt! How _are_ you?" Tina sounded concerned. "Are you doing okay?"

_Why did everyone always ask him that?_ "Yeah, I'm hanging in there. Thanks for the flowers. They're great." Kurt kept his voice controlled, and refrained from asking about Blaine.

"Glad you like them. But, Kurt? We went to see Blaine this morning."

Kurt's heart skipped a beat. "Oh my god! How is he? Did he talk about me?"

Tina paused. "He knows he has a boyfriend, but he doesn't know it's you. I know it sounds bad, but, he remembers things about you. How you met, prom, and the songs you guys sang. He misses his boyfriend."

Kurt remained silent, stuck between happy and heartbroken. "So do I."

"I know. Oh, and Blaine's family was there. They were…nice."

Kurt didn't like the sound of that. "Oh?"

"Mr. Anderson kept on saying that this was all Blaine's fault. Mrs. Anderson was quiet the whole time, but wiped at her eyes a lot. No wonder Blaine wanted to go to boarding school! His dad's an asshole, and his mom's a doormat!"

Kurt knew this already, from conversations with Blaine, and one very awkward meal at his house. "Yeah, that's Blaine's family, but how's _Blaine_?"

Tina giggled. There was no deterring Kurt from finding out about Blaine's condition. Fortunately, there was good news on that front. "He's really sore, and he's still a little disoriented. He managed to feed himself pudding, though. And he watched a tape of a football game without panicking at the big guys!"

Kurt smiled. Maybe the panic attack had been a one-time thing. Maybe Blaine would recognize him! Maybe...

Tina continued on with her good news. "And, he recognized us!"

"Who's us?"

"Me, Mercedes, Brit, and...Rachel."

Rachel. Kurt had some very awkward memories of Blaine's little fling with Rachel. Now, with Blaine in this condition, and Rachel being Rachel… "Oh, god! What did she do?"

"She behaved. Although she did try to hold his hand, but I think that was more Rachel's perception of what people do at bedsides. Oh, and Brittany tried to liberate the therapy dog she saw in the hall."

Kurt was still stuck on Rachel, but he forced out a laugh. "I can imagine it now. Look, Tina, thanks for calling. I've got to go."

"Bye, Kurt! Talk to you soon! Good luck!"

The minute Kurt got off the phone, he aimed an angry kick at his desk chair. _"Damn that girl! Did she always have to take advantage of these situations? This mess was all her fault!" _Kurt shook his head. He knew that the mess was _"My fault. I lost him. Not Rachel, not those guys, not the doctors, me."_

When Kurt fell asleep that night, he was haunted by nightmares. Memories blended together, all shed in a dark light. There was Karfofsky, there was the dumpster…then Blaine was in the dumpster…then he was at prom again, but Blaine turned into Jessie St. James, who turned into Pink, who started singing…

When the alarm went off at 6 am, Kurt was already wide awake. Two hours till Blaine.

Precisely an hour and a half later, Kurt paced outside of Blaine's door.

30 minutes.

He flipped through a year-old issue of Vogue.

20 minutes.

He gnawed on his lower lip.

17 minutes.

He watched CNN. There was a flood somewhere. One of the newscasters had a haircut like Blaine's.

10 minutes.

He gulped down some Tums.

9 minutes.

He sat down and stared at the closed door, counting down seconds.

2 minutes.

A nurse walked out, Kurt leapt up. "Hi I'm here to see Blaine Anderson! Can I go in now?"

1 minute.

The nurse nodded. "Kurt Hummel, I bet. You can go in, but if he panics…"

Kurt didn't stick around for the end of her sentence. He was inside Blaine's room in a minute.

"About time!"

The two most beautiful words in the world, Kurt decided. "Blaine! I missed you!"

Blaine nodded. "Me too. You saved me, Kurt. I love you."

There was no reply to that other than to lean in, and give Blaine the kiss they'd missed on that fateful Saturday. When they pulled apart, Blaine still remembered Kurt. He remembered Kurt all morning. The two of them talked, cuddled, and just sat together. It was like nothing had ever happened.

Then, Kurt went to go get lunch.


	4. Chapter 4

When Kurt came back, sandwiches for himself and Blaine in tow, another person was sitting at his boyfriend's bedside. She was smiling gently-stroking his hair and laughing with him. Kurt's blood boiled. Rachel Berry had just added insult to injury in the worst possible way. As Rachel strolled around Blaine's room, freshening his bouquet, and –_how dare she?_ - flirtily feeding Blaine from that Edible Arrangement, Kurt stood frozen in the hallway.

Blaine didn't seem to be worried about Kurt at the moment, and he looked like he was having fun with that evil witch known as Rachel. Kurt went into auto-pilot as he marched into the room.

"Hello, _Rachel._ I just went to get lunch for Blaine and I…but since you're here, I'll just be going-" Kurt's voice had a cold, bitter, quality that seldom came out.

Rachel was, for once, at a loss for words. She blushed furiously, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. Kurt's face was equally red, but he didn't make any further attempt at speech. He merely stood, glaring.

Blaine broke the silence with a whimper. Both Kurt and Rachel turned to him. "Blaine?"

Their concern was confirmed when Blaine turned straight to Kurt, his face a mask of unadulterated fear. "Why are you back? Don't hurt me! Please! Help!" Kurt went pale, and began to back out of the room. Blaine, who was loosing control rapidly, turned to Rachel. "Get him out! OUT!"

"Blaine, it's me! Kurt!"

Rachel had fire in her eyes. "Get out, Kurt! You're terrifying him!" She pressed the call button to summon a doctor, still glaring at Kurt. "Out."

Kurt left, the two sandwiches crushed in his hand. He wandered the hall, vaguely aware of the nurse hurrying into Blaine's room. He stood by the window, blocking out the universe, until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Kurt, we need to talk."

Rachel. Kurt started to turn away when she grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Not now."

"Yes, now! This is important. You are being selfish, and it needs to stop!"

Kurt could not believe this. "Selfish?" he barked, in a fairly accurate imitation of Rachel. "He remembers me. We had something, something special, and he wants it back!"

"No, Kurt! _You_ want it back! He remembers you as the person from the fight. You're too weak, too scared, to let him go. Maybe if you did, he'd get better!"

"Oh! And now you're a doctor? Just go! We all know what you want here! You've wanted it since that party!" Both Kurt and Rachel were yelling now, all the bonds they'd formed over the past year instantly severed.

"How dare you suggest that?"

Kurt kept his mouth shut hoping Rachel would go away. She didn't, although her voice quieted down slightly.

"Look, I know this is hard for you. You obviously have attachment issues due to Quinn's sudden departure, not to mention the void left by your mother's death-"

Kurt's face went from bright red to sheet white. His mother. God, he missed her right now. She would know what to do right now, what to do about this whole awful situation. And now Rachel had the nerve to bring her up. Kurt could only whisper, but the force behind his words was shocking. "Leave her out of this."

"Fine." Rachel didn't push it. "But, Kurt, listen. If you love Blaine, really, really love him, you'll let him go. He needs other people now. Not you."

No scream in the world could encompass all the pain. Although, Kurt decided later, the howl of terror Blaine let out just then had come close.

That night, Blaine's doctor called. Blaine was asking about Kurt, but he didn't think it would be a good idea for him to come back just now. Kurt, drained from his fight with Rachel, agreed.

"How long?"

"We really don't know. Maybe a week, maybe a year."

As soon as Kurt hung up, he made a beeline for his car. That night, a police officer returned a dazed, teary Kurt to his house at 2 am. When Burt asked the cop where his son had been, he learned that Kurt had fallen asleep at his mother's grave.

The next day, Kurt earned a visit to a shrink, and a prescription for a low-dose tranquilizer. His first pill left him in a mercifully dreamless sleep for the next 12 hours. It was the nicest 12 hours he'd had in a while.


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine Anderson was confused. He missed Kurt, his boyfriend. He missed his hair, his laugh, his blind trust. He missed his lips, and his gentle hands. Most of all, he missed his voice. But then, there was the person, the nightmare, that Blaine had dubbed OK. Other Kurt. OK had been at the attack along with Kurt. In fact, he _was_ Kurt. But instead of joy, OK brought Blaine terror. Blaine didn't know how to control his feelings. He hated the attacks. It was like some mysterious side of him took over, leaving only a tiny shred of Blaine begging "Stop! You love this boy!"

Blaine hated the attacks themselves almost as much as what caused them. He embarrassed himself incredibly, sobbing like a little kid, thrashing around, sweating like a pig, and, once, wetting himself. According to the doctors, all of those symptoms were normal for Situationally Disposed Panic Disorder. According to Blaine, all of those symptoms were demeaning. Wasn't his new medication supposed to make them stop?

Then there was Rachel. She was somehow irresistible. Her smile was contagious. How come she'd never been like this before? When everything around him went dark and fuzzy-even Kurt-Rachel was still clear. In fact, everything around her went a little blurrier…

Blaine shook his head, trying to clear away the cobwebs. He knew one thing for sure. Rachel, as much as he wanted her to stay, had to go. He lay his head back down on the pillow, sighing softly. He needed to talk to Kurt. Now.

Kurt was thrilled to hear the "Blaine" ringtone emitting from his phone. Thrilled and nervous. Blaine had been such a mess yesterday. After the doctor's warning-not to mention Rachel's warning-Kurt was prepared to wait, for Blaine's sake. Should he let it go, and not risk upsetting Blaine?"

What the hell. Kurt grabbed the phone before he could think further. "Hey, angel. Are your wings mended yet?"

Blaine let out a chuckle. "That was the worst line ever, Kurt. I'm doing better, physically, anyways."

Kurt was over the moon. _Blaine remembered him today!_ "I miss you. When do you get out?"

"I don't really know. But, Kurt, we should talk about the panic attacks. They're affecting me, and I'm guessing they're affecting you."

That was the Blaine Kurt knew, always worrying about everybody else, even when everybody else was worrying about him. "Well, I mean, of course they are. But, Blaine, don't worry about it. Just get better for me, okay?"

Blaine obviously wasn't buying this. "Kurt, babe, I'm so sorry that I'm like this right now. Trust me, I hate being afraid of you…It's killing me, and I know it's killing you."

Kurt was crying now, and couldn't say anything. Blaine said it for him. "I know you're afraid we're not going to get that happy ending. I-I'm afraid too. But I'm gonna get an ending with you. I swear…" Blaine's breathing was getting labored.

"An attack?" Kurt pulled himself together briefly, concerned for Blaine.

"Yeah. Tomorrow…come. In a way I can't deny you."

"In a _what? _Blaine?" Kurt's question was answered by a dial tone. "In a way he can't deny me? What the…."

Even to Kurt, that sounded like a line out of a bad romantic comedy. (And Kurt knew his bad romantic comedies.) However, if Blaine wanted Kurt to do something-_anything_-Kurt was damn well going to do it! He had to show Blaine that he was his very own Kurt.

Late into the night, Kurt worried about his plans for tomorrow. Coming up with the idea had been a cinch. All Kurt had to do was remember the four words permanently ingrained on his heart. Carrying out the plot was trickier. He'd had to dive into his Winter Wardrobe closet. (Which was fortunately color-coded, making his outfit-hunt incredibly simple.) After he found the exact ensemble, Kurt had gone through his box of cassette tapes, searching for that one specially marked tape. Once he found it, it was straight to the attic to dig out that vintage boom box…that thing was way back from the 80s, Kurt marveled as he lugged it downstairs. By the time Kurt lugged himself to bed, he had rehearsed his number for Blaine for over five hours. Now, all he had to do was hope it would work.

It _had_ to work.

Kurt was at the hospital early again; although this time he had a speaker system to set up instead of his old pacing routine. When the clock struck 8 he turned to the nurse exiting Blaine's room. "Can I?"

The nurse took a good look at Kurt. "He skipped his meds. He thinks he's going to beat this. I don't know how or why, and I honestly think he's a little bit over-confident. But-Kurt is it?-"

"Yeah. Kurt."

The nurse continued. "Kurt, he must really love you. He's taking a big risk for you. And whatever you're doing, kid, I hope it's worth it. I hope your relationship is worth it."

Kurt nodded, smiling up at the six foot three nurse, who was looking down at him in a way that could only be parental. Ordinarily, Kurt would have felt uncomfortable, and slightly offended by the unsolicited relationship advice. Today was not ordinary, he reminded himself. Today, he needed all the allies he could get. All the same, he was blushing. (Then again, that might've been the heat from that suit…) Kurt fixed his eyes on an ugly print of some kind of flower. It might once have been green and purple, but now the entire thing was a sickening shade of maroon. "Will it work?" the words slipped out before he could compose himself, and say something mature.

"I don't know." The nurse shrugged, her gray hair bouncing along with her shoulders. "Why don't you go find out?"

Kurt nodded, adjusted his outfit one last time, and began to push open the door.

"Good luck, Kurt."

He would need it. The minute he entered the room, Blaine began to shake. His breath took on that breakable, translucent, quality that preceded an attack. Kurt started to sing, trying his best to ignore his boyfriend's panic.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night  
>Take these broken wings and learn to fly<br>All your life  
>You were only waiting for this moment to arise"<p>

Blaine's breathing slowed. He wiped his eyes, grasping at reality. His gaze drifted across Kurt's pure black mourning outfit-a military inspired jacket, fully equipped with tassel and chain, tight black pants, with a belt, of course. _It was him. _Blaine started grinning. Somewhere deep inside of him, a force was calmed. That primal fear was gone. His Kurt was the only Kurt there was!

Kurt kept on singing, breaking into a huge smile against his own will.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night  
>Take these sunken eyes and learn to see<br>All your life  
>You were only waiting for this moment to be free…"<p>

Blaine was rising up out of bed now, slowly walking towards Kurt, smiling all the while. Kurt panicked a little himself. Was Blaine okay? Was he going to attack?

"Blackbird fly, blackbird fly  
>Into the light of the dark black night"<p>

No such thing. Blaine gently took Kurt's hand, and pulled him in close. Then, joy replaced words…

Breathless, the two boys tumbled on to the hospital bed. Leaning in close, Kurt sealed his song with a deep, warm kiss.

"You move me, Kurt."

Blaine was back.

**Sorry this took so long-and sorry if it's sappy! I hope you enjoyed the use of image, as well as the Klainebows! This is NOT the end of "Lockdown", and more drama is on the way, so please don't un-subscribe. I would LOVE any requests or ideas you all have. Please let me know, and as always, thanks for reading! (Also, if Kurt's solution was vague, Kurt staged "Blackbird" as he'd sung it for the Warblers, since that was when Blaine had first realized his deep feelings for Kurt.)**


	6. Chapter 6

Rachel had left precisely 37-and-a-half messages on Blaine' phone. She had left 54 on Kurt's. How many responses had she gotten? Zero. If there was one thing Rachel Berry hated most in the world, it was rejection. She was sick of sitting around, waiting for her phone to ring so she could comfort Blaine or confront Kurt. Or do both at the same time, a scenario that sounded delightfully dramatic. As she sat at her desk, tapping her fingers impatiently, the answer cam to her. _"Proactive! I've got to be proactive. If they're going to ignore me, or simply can't reach me ,like Blaine, I'll get to them."_ Rachel leapt up, nearly knocking over her video camera. She marched downstairs, already preparing for a discussion with Kurt if he was still terrorizing Blaine. And Blaine…Rachel was ready to do anything she needed to for him.

Nothing could have prepared Rachel for what she saw when she reached the hospital. Blaine, dressed in street clothes, instead of his hospital gown, was packing up his few belongings. Helping him was none other than Kurt. Surprisingly, both boys were happy. No sign of panic was in Blaine's eyes. Kurt was content as well, folding Blaine's pajamas and stacking his paperbacks in a small, neatly labeled box. Blaine looked up, and irritation flashed in his face. Kurt soon followed suit, stiffening as he saw the gleam in Rachel's eyes. That gleam could only mean one thing. Someone was about to get yelled at. Big-time.

"Well, _Kurt,_" Rachel's voice dripped ice "I see you're still being selfish." She crossed her arms, glaring coldly at Kurt, who was frozen with a copy of "Catcher in the Rye" grasped in his clammy palm.

Blaine glanced around confusedly. "What? Guys, what the heck is going on here?"

Kurt interrupted Blaine's questions by standing up, dropping his book, and stalking over to Rachel. "I wasn't being selfish. I was being happy. _We _were being happy."

Rachel stepped back. She wasn't expecting both Kurt and Blaine to be strong today. Blaine was still recovering, and Kurt tended to crumble in situations like this. Today, he was being difficult. "I see. Is Blaine okay? I know you tend to cause discomfort on his part. I thought we'd agreed on your…taking a break." She decided to start relatively gentle. No need for screaming yet.

Kurt's raised voice said otherwise. "No, Rachel. You agreed. You come in, start bossing me around, making the strangest request ever-and I have no idea why you need him too! You were way out of line." He paused a split second for breath. "And for your information, Ms. Berry, he doesn't panic around me anymore. I figured it out just fine on my own-just me and my 'attachment issues'. So there!"

Kurt was in battle position now, and Rachel looked ready to retaliate. "You are so blind Kurt Hummel! So ignorant! So-" the two dueling divas were interrupted by Blaine, who stepped between them, trying to prevent a full-out cat fight.

"Guys! I'm right here, you don't have to talk about me like that. And what is going on here?" He wasn't even out of the hospital yet, and already Blaine was playing peacemaker. Again.

Rachel wasn't calmed. "I'll tell you what's going on. I try to keep you safe, to show Kurt that he's not what you need right now, and he breaks our agreement! I am absolutely scandalized. He's a backstabber, Blaine! You'd better save yourself while you're still intact!"

Kurt was taken aback. "Oh. My. God. She makes the most unreasonable demand ever, based off of nothing but envy, and decides it was an 'agreement'. That is the biggest load of bull I've ever heard! Blaine, don't listen to her!"

Blaine didn't seem to be listening to either of them anymore, as his breathing sped up and the moaning started. Kurt and Rachel turned on one another. As if it was rehearsed, they spat the exact same words at each other.

"I hope you're happy!" With that, Kurt was by Blaine's side, murmuring, rubbing his back, holding his hands tight. He grabbed a paper bag and pressed it to his boyfriend's mouth.

"Breathe with me, okay? In, out, in out…good job, babe. Keep going. I've got you. You're safe. You're safe." He glanced up at Rachel, gazing at her for a long moment. "You should probably go." He whispered. For once, Rachel went.

Instead of getting into her car, Rachel walked the perimeter of the hospital. Blaine's room happened to be on the first floor. The blinds happened to be drawn open. She peered in, and was greeted by the sight of Kurt helping Blaine into a chair, obviously singing to him. Then-Rachel was both touched and sickened in the same wave of feeling, if that was possible-the porcelain brunette climbed onto Blaine's lap, kissing his cheek before cuddling into his shoulder. The worst part was watching Blaine return Kurt's sentiments.

Rachel sighed. Life was totally unfair. Whenever opportunity knocked, it seemed to ding-dong-ditch her.

Rachel should have been falling for Finn, her newly improved boyfriend. However, the second-greatest love of her life was away at football camp in Kentucky. Four weeks, and not one text. Thoughtless and cruel. When Finn came back, they would have a lot of talking to do. Then, Blaine had seemingly become available. That little spark was still there, and with the attacks around Kurt, Rachel really thought she'd had a chance. Then, of course, Kurt had come out on top. He always did. Rachel was left in the dust, feeling lousy. All she'd wanted to do was get Kurt out of Blaine's way. Somehow, she'd been the one pushed aside.

As she tore her eyes away from the romance in front of her, she couldn't help but respond to her own words. "No. I'm not happy at all."

Blaine allowed Kurt to wheel him to the car. He sat patiently as Kurt lifted the two boxes of Blaine's flotsam and jetsam into the trunk. He tolerated Kurt's nervous fussing during the car ride. However, when the boy's arrived at Blaine's house, he was all business, carrying in the boxes, limping around without crutches, and ignoring any remote twinge of pain.

This obviously made Kurt livid. "Blaine! You're going to hurt yourself, angel! Be careful! No, don't lift that! No!"

Blaine sighed. "Kurt, my dad's gonna be around. You know how he is." He shrugged a little, but his discomfort was obvious. "In the hospital, the first time he came, he was a mess. He sat there, watching me-I was pretending to be asleep-and started to cry. My dad _never _cries Kurt. He says it's for gays and girls. Anyway, he was asking 'Why? Why did my son turn out this way? He's gone and gotten himself beat up. My son! Almost killed, and it's his own fault!' He went on like that until he had to leave. He even asked what he'd done to make his son so queer. It hurt. It really hurt."

Kurt's heartstrings were easily pulled, but this really got him. "Oh, Blaine…" he stood behind his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around the slightly shorter boy. "Darling…"

Blaine took Kurt's hands, squeezing them gently. "Yeah. But I'm fine-he says crap like that to my face, too. Now you should probably go. If he saw us so much as hug, I'd be disowned for sure." Noticing the horror on Kurt's face, Blaine couldn't help but laugh. "I was kidding, doll. I'll call you, okay?"

Just as Kurt pulled away, Blaine heard footsteps descending the grand staircase. He took a deep breath, readying himself for his father's ambush.

"Well. Look who's home." His father''s voice was withdrawn, harboring traces of anger, and laden with disappointment.

"Hi Dad." That was all Blaine managed to get out before his throat started closing up, and his eyes started watering. He yelled out, sinking to the floor, where he inadvertently assumed the fetal position. The marble tile usually made him cringe upon contact, but right now he was oblivious to it. The panic took over, and he got that awful sensation. He was going to die. He knew it, just like he did every time.

Blaine's dad stood frozen, watching his son break down, showing no visible emotion at all. Finally, he simply turned and walked into the kitchen. If Blaine hadn't been panicking, he would have heard his father fixing himself a drink. The clatter of ice, and the all-too-familiar splash of vodka echoed in the quiet house.

Blaine had been at his house for a total of 74 minutes when a frazzled Kurt (having received a text consisting of only: "Panik. Get me.") picked him up and took him home.

**Late this afternoon one of my very best friends called me to tell me that she had just been diagnosed with low-degree Generalized Panic Disorder. (A different type of disorder than what I've afflicted poor Blaine with, but still similar.) She's an amazing person, and I'm sure she'll be able to cope with her new diagnosis. However, her insight on an attack was very helpful, and I really appreciate her openness. I'd like to dedicate this story to her. **

**On another note…what do you all think about Rachel now? Still out-of-line and evil? (Honestly, I'm not entirely convinced yet…that probably doesn't bode well for your reactions…)**

**Did I add enough Klainebows to keep things from becoming totally grim?**


	7. Chapter 7

Blaine's face was frozen in a permanent blush. Lying on Kurt's sofa, wearing Kurt's pajamas, and letting his boyfriend pet his hair, while Burt and Carole tip-toed around the house, whispering to one another in urgent tones. Blaine was nearly positive that the conversation was about him, but Kurt seemed oblivious to everything except nursing Blaine, who in reality, didn't need that much nursing.

"Are you sure you don't want more soup, angel? Or maybe a cold cloth for your forehead?"

Blaine rolled his eyes, grunting as he sat up. "Kurt. I'm fine. You do not need to take care of me. It was just a panic attack, and I'm seriously okay. I just needed to get away from him for a while."

Kurt pressed one of his perfectly-manicured fingers to Blaine's lips, shaking his head slightly. "Ah-ah-ah. Don't you dare go pulling that macho act! Kurt tucked the blanket tighter around Blaine's shoulders. "You said it was the worst one yet. And judging from the state I found you in, you most definitely need a sick day. Now, sit tight, and I'll go make us a latte."

Blaine didn't protest. He was in lousy shape, and a day of pampering from Kurt wouldn't hurt. This had been his worst attack yet, combining every single one of the undesirable symptoms. When Kurt found him, he had been crying that he was going to die. Maybe a sick day wouldn't hurt. He leaned into Kurt, smelling his cologne, feeling his soft, warm skin. "No. Stay with me. I need you here. With me."

Kurt was happy to oblige. The two of them snuggled up, and whiled away the afternoon watching RENT. Blaine didn't panic at all, and by the time the credits stared rolling, he was asleep against Kurt's shoulder. Kurt switched on the commentary version, leaned his head on top of Blaine's, and promptly joined in on the nap.

Burt and Carole stood in the doorway, surveying the scene of two sleeping boys. Carole was smiling, and Burt couldn't help but feel his lips curl up. "So," Carole whispered to her husband "Which one of them has had a rougher time?"

Burt snorted. "Yeah. It's been tough on Kurt too. And Blaine…poor kid."

Carole sighed, taking Burt's hand. "I wish he could stay, but that's probably not an option for long. We're lucky his step-mom was okay with this for a couple days. Oh, where is he sleeping?"

Burt grumbled. "Finn's room. He's at camp, and those two lovebirds are not going to…sleep together…"

Just then, Kurt woke up. "Huh?" he rubbed his bleary eyes, not seeming to believe what he was seeing. "Why is he here? Oh, right."

Burt had to laugh. Kurt was always so confused when he first woke up. Unfortunately, his laugh woke up Blaine as well.

"Whaaaat?" Kurt immediately snapped to attention, scanning Blaine's face. He didn't see any sign of panic, and Blaine quickly added to the assurance. "Oh. Ummm, hi Mr. Hummel, Mrs. Hudson."

Awkward. Kurt managed a tight smile, realizing that his parents had just walked in on a cuddle scene.

"Hi, boys." Carole perched on the edge of a chair, motioning for Burt to join them. "Could we chat?"

Blaine and Kurt nodded, not quite sure what was coming. "Sure.' Kurt stammered.

Carole wasted no time. "Blaine, as much as we love having you here, I don't think your parents would…go for this."

Burt blurted what everyone was thinking. "Plus, it would be like, a live-in boyfriend. And that'd be creepy."

Silence descended over the room. Carole, as usual, broke it. "What we mean is, do you think you're going to be able to live with your dad? Would the attacks be too intense?"

Blaine sighed. Kurt squeezed his knee, trying to comfort him. "I really don't know Mrs. Hummel. I have no idea."

"Call me Carole."

"Carole. He and I are, well, we're not Kurt and Mr. Hummel."

"It's Burt."

"Oh. Thanks. Burt."

Kurt was incredibly quiet. This had to be the most humiliating experience in the universe. Actually, he noted in passing, it could be worse. Blaine was in pajamas.

Finally, the conversation was over. Kurt shuttled Blaine out of the room, mumbling something about tea, or maybe a fresh shirt.

Burt turned to Carole. "I'm gonna go talk to the dad. Somethin's not right."

**This is a little fluff to make up for the evil-Rachel. (Also, I wasn't in the mood to write drama. I needed me some Klainebows. ) If all goes well, you'll get a nice, long, dramatic chapter by Tuesday. Rachel or Mr. Anderson- who would you rather see confronted? **


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks a million for all the hits, alerts, favorites, and reviews! You guys are wonderful! Seeing people enjoy this story makes writing worth it!**

Burt Hummel nervously knocked on the door to the Anderson Mansion. He glanced down at him jeans, polo shirt, and loafers, hoping he wasn't under-dressed. This was, after all, his second most formal outfit. His suspicions were confirmed when a woman in a salmon cocktail dress answered the door. "Hello. Are you Mr. Hummel?"

"Yeah-I mean yes, but you can call me Burt. And you are?" Burt extended his hand, hoping it wasn't sweaty.

The petite woman took it, giving him a weak handshake. "I'm Lane. Jackson is my husband." She paused, shifting uncomfortably. "Blaine is my stepson."

Burt nodded. He was really uncomfortable now. "He's a great kid. You must be proud."

Lane only nodded. "Thanks you." She stepped aside, gesturing to the foyer. "Won't you come in? Jackson's waiting for you in the study, I'm sure you two have things to talk about."

Burt Hummel walked the halls, noting the fancy marble floors and original artwork. He hunched his shoulders, trying to ignore how fancy everything was. Finally, Lane opened the door to a poorly lit room lined by oak bookshelves. A tall, broad shouldered, man sat in a leather chair. "Hello, Burt. Sit down." He nodded to the chair directly across from him. A coffee table separated the two men, although it seemed like a wall of ice had formed instantly.

"So." Mr. Anderson began "You have Blaine at your house. That's very generous of you. I know our sons are _close_." He seemed to choke on the word, making a sour face as he uttered it. Sighing, Mr. Anderson rose from his chair. "Can I get you a drink?"

Burt noticed that a half-empty bottle of wine was already on the bar, and he smelled alcohol on Mr. Anderson's breath as he handed him a cocktail. "Thanks. So, about Blaine…he's a great kid, and wonderful to Kurt, but I don't think he can stay at our house for more than a week. I don't really…" blushing, he trailed off, noticing the frown on the other man's face.

"First of all, Burt, I don't approve of my son's homosexuality. I don't approve of his relationship with Kurt." Mr. Anderson noticed the hurt look on Burt's face. "No offense, Burt. I wouldn't approve of any _relationship_ my son had with another male. I don't know how you can tolerate it."

Anger boiled in the pit of Burt's stomach. "I love my son deeply. I love every part of him. Including his sexuality. If you love Blaine-" he stopped himself just in time, not wanting to upset the other man further.

"Let's not go into that. Blaine can come back as soon as you want him to. I'm sorry to trouble you with his melodrama. Do you want a cash settlement?" Mr. Anderson reached for his pocket."

"No. I care about Blaine; I don't want your money. But, with all due respect, it's a medical condition. No melodrama. I'm a little concerned about Blaine being here though. You seem to trigger his attacks. He's got to live here another year, and I don't think he can."

Mr. Anderson fixed himself another drink, promptly gulping it down. "He lives at Dalton. That won't be an issue. However, I was considering purchasing an apartment for him. I'm rather tired of all of his damn singing. It's repulsive."

Burt shut his eyes, trying to keep calm. "Okay. And Mr. Anderson? Be nice to your family. That's all I'm sayin'." With that, he got up, and escorted himself back to the front door. Just as he was about to leave, a small cold hand touched his arm.

"Burt?" the voice was a near-whisper. "Thank you. Blaine's lucky to have a family like yours around. I appreciate it so much." Lane Anderson offered up a small smile before scurrying away. As she retreated, Burt noticed a small yellow bruise on the back of her neck. Gritting his teeth, he hurried out of the poisonous house and into his truck. He had quite a lot to tell Carole now.

Kurt and Blaine had been having a good day. They'd driven out to a secluded little park and enjoyed a romantic lunch. Blaine had only panicked once, and the attack ceased as soon as Kurt started singing Blackbird. The two of them had stretched out in the sun, Kurt's head resting on Blaine's chest.

"Everything's good again." The younger boy sighed happily. "You're back, we're together. It's perfect!"

Blaine smiled. Kurt was such an optimist. The poor kid had been given such a hard time in life, yet he was still blessedly naïve. "Things are going to be tougher from here on out, darling. Nothing's ever perfect."

Kurt popped up from his position on the picnic blanket. Giggling, he twirled around. "Come on, Blaine! I don't want life to hurt anymore! I want rainbows, and sunshine, and unicorns puking glitter, and kittens crapping bouquets, and kissing, and upbeat love songs!"

Caressing Kurt's finely chiseled face, Blaine smiled. "That has got to be the gayest thing you've ever said." With that, he leaned in, and gave Kurt a long, soft kiss. He didn't want life to hut anymore, either. Here, just the two of them, he was safe. They were safe.

When the two breathless boys finally pulled apart, Kurt had an impish grin on his face. "What was that for?"

Blaine only raised one eyebrow. "You have grass in your hair." Kurt picked a handful up and threw it at Blaine.

"So do you!"

Kurt spent the afternoon bleaching his clothes, and smiling like a maniac. Back in Finn's room, Blaine was grinning too. Maybe Kurt was right! Maybe things would be perfect from now on! Maybe his family would figure things out. Maybe the attacks would stop for good. Maybe he and Kurt could spend the rest of their lives together. Maybe…

**This chapter's for Gottriplets. Here are the unicorns you asked for! **

**Has everyone figured Mr. Anderson out? **

**Next Chapter: Blaine goes on a field trip, Burt makes a difficult phone call, Rachel gets blood on her hands, and Kurt ruins another item of clothing. Any predictions?**

**Also, please, please, please check out the poll on my profile! Input is much appreciated!**


	9. Chapter 9

Burt Hummel was, for once, hoping to be put on hold. The annoyingly calm and helpful woman on the other end of the phone was asking him questions-was it an emergency, did he need law enforcement or medical services, and was he calling to report a friend, family member, colleague or acquaintance. Burt kept on giving one-word answers as he fidgeted and sweated profusely. Finally, the lady transferred him over to another person. This one was another woman, who sounded eerily like Kurt. "_Great,"_ Burt muttered to himself. _"Just great."_

"Hi, this is Hannah Ferloc, Lima County's child welfare officer. Would you like to file a report?"

Would he _like_ to? Of course not! Burt rolled his eyes before answering her question. "Yeah. It's my son's boyfriend."

The woman jumped onto that piece of information. "Your son is in an abusive relationship? Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, sir-"

"It's Burt. Burt Hummel. And my kid's fine. The boyfriend is the one in trouble. His dad, well, his dad's kind of abusive. And more than kind of alcoholic. He beats his wife, and I'm pretty sure he knocks Blaine- the son- around too, but if he doesn't he sure as hell screws around with his mind. Blaine's got panic disorder now, and his dad sets him off. This guy is messed up."

Hannah gave off a sympathetic sigh. "Thank you for reporting this Mr. Hummel. Can I get your name on record?"

"Like hell you can. And the dad- Jackson Anderson, You want an address?" Burt was calm now that he had control of the situation.

"That would be wonderful. Our immediate concern is the family's safety, of course. Do you know if Blaine lives with his father? Since he's a minor, we could take him into protective services."

"He's with us. Been here for a week. But, he can't stay forever…we don't have much room, we have another son, and it…" Burt trailed off, not sure if he knew or liked where this was going.

"Naturally. If I could get Mr. Anderson's contact information, and yours?"

As he rattled off the names and numbers, Burt felt strangely at peace. For better or for worse, he had done it.

….

Across town, Kurt Hummel was about to take a leap of his own. Blaine was visiting a new therapist, recommended by the hospital, to discuss his panic attacks. Since the confrontation with his father, Blaine had been set off by a King's Island commercial, a dumpster, and, most embarrassingly, Puck, whom he had seen at the Glee barbeque Kurt had dragged him to the previous afternoon.

After dropping Blaine off in front of the shrink's office, Kurt headed to his favorite coffee joint grabbed an iced mocha and a bench outside, prepared to dip into some Jane Austen and enjoy the sun. Midway through Sense and Sensibility, (Blaine reminded him of Elinor) he felt a tap on his shoulder. That tap could only come from one person. Kurt's blood ran cold as he turned to face his new nemesis.

"Rachel."

Rachel hurried to compose her face into an icy glare. If he hadn't known better, Kurt would have thought that he saw a glimmer of remorse in Rachel's eyes. _"But I know things now."_ He reminded himself. _"I know things about her."_

"Kurt. Hi." Rachel seemed genuinely uncomfortable, rearranging the neckline of her ridiculous peasant blouse repeatedly before speaking again. "May I sit here?"

Kurt ignored her nod towards the spot beside him. "Oh, no." His voice was getting higher and higher. "I might selfishly trigger a panic attack in you, too. Y'know, since there's such a _deep connection_ between you and Blaine!"

What came next was unexpected for everyone involved. Rachel, teary eyed, reached out to Kurt, as if she was going to cradle his impish chin in her hands. The she slapped him. Hard.

"You slapped me!" Kurt murmured thickly through the blood gushing out of his nose. "You slapped me."

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" Frantic, Rachel passed Kurt a tissue from her purse. "I just-Kurt, bad things have happened to you. I know. But, still, Kurt, other people get hurt, too. Blaine needs to be defended, now. The relationship can't work. I'm sorry. It can't."

Kurt's voiced dropped to a whisper. "Rachel, who carried him home from the damn barbeque? Who sings to him every night now? Who threw out two pairs of designer shoes that triggered attacks? Rachel, you think you get it. You honestly do, don't you?" He ignored the tissue, letting blood drip down onto his shirt. "See this, Rachel Berry? This is me not hitting you back. This is me ruining a very attractive shirt. Take a good, long, look. Because I refuse to be in your presence any longer. Maybe in the fall, but not now. Just- not now."

For the first time in her life, Rachel didn't say anything. She only blinked rapidly, and walked away, tripping over her platform sandals as she went. Kurt debated momentarily between crying and laughing. Glancing down at his very gory shirt, Kurt laughed until he cried.

…

**Sorry for my extended absence! Life has been kind of a wreck. My story is kind of a wreck. I promise, we'll resolve the Mr. Anderson issue soon. Anything else that needs fixing?**

**Also, I'm about to start a new Fic. It features Klaine as adults (In NYC, of course) and Blaine's niece Lauren, who has a bit of a secret as well as some very closed-minded parents. I'll keep y'all posted. **


	10. Chapter 10

Sitting in a court room was not what Kurt and Blaine had in mind for the last week before school started. Nonetheless, the two of them sat together, Blaine sandwiched in between Kurt and Azalea, Blaine's social worker. The first two days had consisted of family services testimonies, photos, psychologists, and a lot of forms. The most interesting event had been Lane's testimony, during which she, Blaine, Kurt, Carole, Azalea, and Mr. Anderson ended up crying.

Today was the day that made fear bubble up in Kurt's throat. Blaine was testifying, along with his father. The attacks had become less and less frequent as Blaine continued to take medicine and meet with his therapist, but Kurt was terrified that there would be another one today. As the judge walked in and the courtroom's population rose, Kurt gave Blaine's clammy hand a squeeze. "You're up soon…Ready?"

Blaine nodded in response, squeezing back halfheartedly. Was he ready? _ "This guy raised you-tought you to ride a bike, to throw a ball." _Blaine reminded himself. _"And then hit you when you refused to try out for football." _Another part of Blaine retorted with this fact. Just then, a security guard led in Mr. Anderson. Kurt and Burt averted their eyes, but Blaine stared into his father's face. He searched for remorse, for the tiniest twinge of regret or love. Blaine noticed his father's eyes, hazel, like his own, but filled with a deep, cold loathing.

He was ready.

A half hour of trivial court procedures flew by. Soon, the court secretary spoke the words Blaine had been awaiting. "Will Blaine Paul Anderson take the stand?"

Blaine got up abruptly, almost tripping over Kurt's feet. Azalea patted his hand and gave him an encouraging smile. Kurt kissed Blaine's cheek as he slid past. "Love you, Blaine."

"Love you too." Blaine managed to reach the witness stand without falling. From there on out, Blaine didn't remember much of what happened. The judge made him sign a few things, swear something, and finally let him begin the testimony. Glancing at his index cards, Blaine began.

"Hi. I'm, um, Blaine Anderson. Jackson Anderson is my father. My mom, she, um, divorced him when I was five. He got custody. Oh, and, um, and Lane is my stepmom. Since I was seven." He paused for breath, gazing straight ahead, trying not to sweat through his shirt. "When I was nine, I started to have issues sleeping. Lots of nights, I'd be awake till midnight. Sometimes, I'd hear him yell, and then" Blaine broke off, looking to Lane for a moment. "There was a noise, a whack, or a crash. Then Lane would cry out. The next day, she'd be wearing long sleeves, or a turtleneck. Sometimes there'd be a mark on her face that the makeup couldn't cover. I kind of knew, but I never said anything. He-my dad- was starting to scare me then."

The judge interrupted politely. "Did your father ever abuse you? Physically or mentally?"

"Yes, your honor. Both. Mostly, uh, mental. He only hit me a few times. Once when I wouldn't do football, sometimes when I cried about something, once when I broke a window. And he did a lot of damage when I told him I was gay." With that, Blaine felt the panic sink in. He couldn't get enough air. His heart was racing, trying to run away. Everything was so dark, so cold. There were voices. He felt tears pour down his face, heard his own moans and yells.

"_Dad. I'm gay. It's not your fault, it's not anybody's. It's just how it is. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Dad. Say something." No words in response, just a fist. Then the marble floor. And the blood. So much blood. So hard. All of it, so hard. _

Then another voice. This one was quiet and close by. "You were only waiting for this moment to be free..." Blaine's eyes fluttered open as the panic eased up. He grasped Kurt's outstretched hand, moving out from the corner he had wedged himself into. Kurt eyes glistened with concern. "Flashback?" he asked.

Blaine nodded, still unsure of his ability to speak.

"You're okay now." Kurt was rearranging Blaine's hair and clothing. "Need a pill?"

"Yeah." Blaine replied shakily, fishing a small bottle out of his blazer's pocket. When he tried to open it, his shaking hands betrayed him.

Kurt opened the bottle and passed Blaine a pill. "The attack wasn't too long, at least. Are you up to more of this, or should we go home? The judge said we could."

Blaine shook his head, and pulled himself up. "No, thanks." He picked his note cards back up, briefly rubbing his temples. "I'll finish this."

Even the judge looked nervous as she began to question Blaine again. "Are you sure you can continue, young man?"

"Yes, your honor. You asked if he was mentally abusive." The judge nodded, and Blaine continued. "Since I was ten or so, he was verbally abusive. Called me lazy, dumb, clumsy, and other stuff…when I came out to him-I was about 14- he started calling me 'your gayness' and faggot. It was bad." Blaine looked out at the spot where his team was sitting. Kurt was sniffling.

The judge continued, "Once you went to boarding school, did it stop?"

Blaine gulped. This was the worst part, the thing hadn't told anyone, not even Azalea. "No. He sent me…letters."

"Letters?" The judge raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah. Stories, actually. He wrote them. They were about gay kids getting beat up, or going straight, or dying of AIDs." Blaine shuddered at the memory. "I have them, if you want to see them."

"Absolutely. If you would submit them to the court secretary when court commences tomorrow, that would be ideal. I think that's all I need from you for today, Blaine. Thank you."

Blaine managed a smile as he retreated to his seat. As he hurried down the aisle, he noticed his father whispering to the defense attorney, who got up and spoke softly to the judge. She nodded briskly. "Mr. Anderson has requested that his son and his son's friends leave the room for his testimony and examination. Mrs. Anderson, as well."

Carole and Azalea gasped and looked concernedly at Blaine, who was looking at his hands, seemingly unsurprised. Kurt was red-faced, almost as outraged as Burt who marched out of the room, letting a door slam behind him. The rest of the group walked out, forming a shield around Blaine. As the door shut for the last time, Mr. Anderson took the stand.

Outside, the group was silent. Lane had hurried away, but everyone else stayed, nervously eyeing one another. Finally, Blaine broke the silence.

"Well. Just when we thought he couldn't be more of an asshole."

Looking back, Kurt decided that was when he knew that Blaine would be okay.


	11. Chapter 11

A plate of cookies arrived at Kurt's door almost twenty-four hours after Blaine kissed Kurt goodbye before getting into Azalea's car and driving away to his family's mansion, which, to Kurt's immense relief, was populated only by Lane. Jackson Anderson was in prison for two years, and his son and wife were outfitted with restraining orders against him.

Sighing, Kurt reached down to pick up the plate. Sugar cookies, frosted meticulously in pink. As soon as he read the letters on the cookies, each one bearing its own letter, Kurt eyes began to fill up. The cookies repeated a phrase he couldn't forget if he tried- 'And Just to Clear the Air'. Keeping a firm grip on the cookies, Kurt set foot outside.

Rachel sat on the porch swing, examining her nails. She looked up at Kurt and offered him a shaky smile. She opened her mouth, her voice coming out in a half speaking, half-singing lull. "I ask forgiveness, of the things I've done you blame me for…"

Kurt studied her face, blotchy and nervous, with dark fearful eyes. Running a hand through his hair, he took a seat beside Rachel. "But then I guess we know there's blame to share." Kurt's voice took on a similar dreamlike tone.

Tentatively, Rachel fluttered her fingertips beside Kurt's knee. He set his hand, which was now almost that of an adult, on top of hers. "And…none of it seems to matter anymore."

Rachel looked up at Kurt like a puppy. "Can we go back to the way we were? You know, before this?"

"I don't think we can, Rach." Kurt surprised himself by using his old nickname for her. "I genuinely wish we could, but-"

"Could we start over?"

"I think maybe. I think maybe we could do that." Kurt got up, still gripping his cookies. "Want to come in? I have a couple pairs of skinny jeans that are too…groiny… Don't worry, I bought them in the girls section."

"I'd like that." Then, two silhouettes made their way into a well-lit house, together.

….

Blaine lay on his old bed, tossing a baseball up into the air and catching it. He missed his dad. Not the man he'd known for the past ten years, but the guy who read Goldilocks and the Three Bears to him, doing different voices for each character. Mr. Anderson had always read the story to three year-old Blaine, even if it was the seventeenth time that day.

Sighing, he rolled over on his side, and grabbed a notebook and a pen. He wrote.

_Dear Daddy,_

_I hate you. I love you. I miss you._

_Yours,_

Blaine paused. He wasn't his father's at all. He had been for seventeen years, but now-

Blaine ripped up his note. Kissing the pieces he tossed them out of his open third floor window, to the stars. Laughing, probably a little bit crazily, Blaine hollered to the moon.

"I'm freeing myself, suckers! I'm freeing myself!"

Then, softer, "You were only waiting for this moment to be free..."


	12. Epilouge

They had been in the parking lot for over half an hour, Blaine strapped in the passenger seat, shaking slightly as he stared at the Cedar Point skyline.

"You really don't have to do this, Blaine. I don't want you to do anything that freaks you out. It's really, honestly okay, angel." Kurt nervously rubbed Blaine's shoulders.

"I do have to." Blaine unbuckled his seatbelt, gingerly setting on foot on the ground as Kurt looked on. Like a light switch had been flicked, his heart began to pound and the world started to fall in.

Yanking Blaine back into the car, Kurt murmured words of reassurance. Sniffling, Blaine leaned into Kurt's shoulder. "I hate this."

"I know." Kurt kept stroking Blaine's hair, oblivious to the stares they were getting. Another few minutes passed before Blaine sat up, composed.

"Could we maybe stay here for a while?" Blaine smiled weakly.

That night, Kurt and Blaine kissed their way through the firework show, with Katy Perry blaring out of the car radio, and a soft breeze blowing through the rolled down windows.

They would forget, and they would remember. They would grow.

**This is the very end of Lockdown. It was hard to write, and I don't think it will ever fully satisfy me, but I've loved the overall process of writing my first multi-chapter fanfic. **

**When I started writing, "Lockdown" was the title because I was planning to put Blaine in a coma. Obviously, I changed my mind, but kept the title. As soon as I wrote the Blaine-at –the-window scene, I figured out that the title still worked. Lockdown is about setting yourself free. It is about living. **

**A huge thank-you goes out to those of you who read, subscribed, encouraged, asked, and prodded. You guys are what made me keep going, and I'm so glad I did. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!**

**Lastly, I'm starting a new fic soon. It involves Blaine's niece, Lauren, and her secret. Please Author-Alert me if you want more Klaine and a new story! **

**And now…**

**Into the light of the dark black night…**


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